The Mental Incompetence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Gibbs makes a huge mistake.


_a/n: i'm not even sure how, but this was inspired by a scene in probie days ? _

* * *

He knew it was a _huge_ mistake the minute it happened, and if he'd entertained even the _tiniest_ of doubts, being violently dragged into her office by his collar erased them.

The first indication that said huge mistake was, well, _huge_ was the fact that the entire bullpen audibly gasped—except for DiNozzo; DiNozzo, of course, felt the need to let out a girlish squeal and fall backwards out of his desk chair—the second indication was, naturally, the aforementioned violent dragging, and the third was—the smeared lipstick on her livid face as she glared at him.

The problem was, after she slammed her office door louder than it had ever been slammed in its inanimate life, he got distracted by the smeared lipstick, and made a second colossal mistake—he _smirked_.

She saw the smirk, and her green eyes flashed, and her hand went straight to her hip, and she kicked out one foot, and he was fairly positive she was about to morph into some sort of carnivorous predator and rip him limb from limb, but instead of screaming, or slapping, or scratching, or kicking, she grit her teeth and said in a frozen hiss:

"_What the hell is wrong with you?" _

He managed to eviscerate the smirk, and force his mouth into a sort of stern, grim, blank expression—he couldn't exactly answer that question, because until about eighty seconds ago, he'd thought he was a halfway normal guy, but recent (painfully recent) events seemed to indicate he was developing early-onset dementia.

He continued to look at her silently, and she gnashed her teeth, her eyes narrowing to catlike slits.

"Did you perhaps roll out of bed, trip into a time machine, and prance back to nineteen ninety-nine?" she demanded sarcastically.

He tried not to smirk again—but truth be told he kinda wished that had happened, and while he was lamenting the fact that time travel was a thing of fiction, he accidentally smirked again.

She yanked her hand off her hip and slapped him twice in the shoulder, her cheeks flushing.

"_Jethro_!" she barked.

He set his jaw, and compressed his lips into a stern line. He swallowed, and affected a serious glare, clearing his throat. He glanced down at her weaponized hand and stepped out of reach somewhat.

"You thought it was in your best interests to lay one on the director in front of the _entire_ agency?" she shouted.

"Field offices didn't see."

It was the first thing he said in his defense, and it was probably the worst defense in recorded history—because it earned him two more ferocious slaps, and a rather frightening line of bared white teeth.

He backed up again, and she advanced on him, menacing him against the office door—he seriously could not explain himself; she'd been yelling, because he'd mouthed off to a government official in MTAC, and he'd been trying to ignore her while maintaining some dignity—since she was tearing him a new one in front of his team and God and everyone else in the bullpen—and he'd chosen (poorly) to daydream back to the old days, when arguments like this had just ended in the bedroom, and the next thing he knew—

-the kissing on the catwalk thing had happened, and DiNozzo had screamed like a little teenage girl, and Jenny had dragged him into her office like some chew toy for a big, angry canine.

She drew her lips back in a scowl that managed to somehow make the smeared lipstick all the more attractive, and her hand slammed into his chest forcefully, shoving him aggressively into the door.

"The sheer audacity of your mental incompetence is—"

"Jen," he interrupted in a low voice, grinning suddenly.

She grit her teeth in a snarl and clutched her fist, pointing her finger into his face.

"So help me God, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you wipe that goddamn smirk—"

"Jen, you dragged me into your office after I kissed you—what do you think they think we're doin' in here?"

She blinked, her finger still threatening him, and for a moment, he thought she was going to start screaming again—but instead, her face contorted into a sort of calm, dangerous smile, and she grabbed his shirt in her fist again—

-she dragged him past Cynthia's desk, wrenched open the door, and with all her strength, admirably threw him to the catwalk floor outside of her office.

He hit the floor on his hands and knees, slightly impressed she'd taken him down like that, and when he heard the slam of the office door behind him, he blinked at the carpet—

Considering he'd just inadvertently gotten his ass kicked in a slightly arousing way, he was vividly remembered that this was almost entirely what nineteen ninety-nine had consisted of.

* * *

_i apologize._

_-alexandra_

_story #186_


End file.
